Today marks the 17th anniversary of the blizzard of '93. Saying things like that makes me feel old. My best buddy (we'll call her Woody after a Woody Woodpecker sheet she wore to a toga party in our youth resulting in an equally ridiculous and funny story) and I were in our early 20's and signing a lease for an apartment on E. Carson St. South Side, Pittsburgh.
We were, of course, typical twenty somethings in that we were oblivious to the weather forecast and unprepared. We were making our decorating plans when we noticed how much it was snowing. "Wow! It's really coming down out there." "Yeah...let's get some more champagne."
Needless to say, we got stuck on south side with no more than a bag of clothes in the back of Woody's car, a radio and some champagne. Fortunately, the apartment was recently vacated and the power and heat were still on. When we ran out of booze, MUCH later that day as one of our favorite watering holes was now at our back door, we made a bed and "blankets" out of Woody's stash of extra clothes and huddled together on the floor in front of the radio to sleep.
When the snow stopped the next day and we had no way to dig ourselves out, we layered all the clothes we had into what I'm sure were absurd but hilarious impromptu snow ensembles and hiked the 14 blocks to the apartment of one of my ex-boyfriends. (20 years older than me and in retrospect, a real ass wipe.) We then proceeded to eat all his food, drink all his booze and reduce his stash of contraband to zero before we returned to our new apartment where Woody dug the car out with an ice scraper.
Ahhh...the good old days. I'm surprised I remember them at all.
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